History Rewritten

*Picks up after S1E8 "Fated". Bash and Mary have run away from French Court. Quickly diverges from canon, though some events are similar to canon. For the purposes of this story, Mary and Francis were never intimate. Some characters may be slightly OOC.

Chapter 1

Mary stood shivering in her sopping dress, her head turned down to keep the many eyes in the tavern from seeing too many details of her face. Bash stood just a couple of feet away, negotiating with the innkeeper for a room and warm bath water. They were pretending to be a young married couple who had lost their horses in the swollen river.

Bash graced Mary with a small smile as he turned around. "Come wife, let's get you warm."

Mary's mouth turned up at his cheek, ever present even when they were in peril. Mary had to admit she liked the way those words sounded coming out of Bash's mouth, but her heart clenched terribly all the same. The word wife made her think of Francis and the life she had left behind her at French Court. Running had been her only option. Mary knew if she stayed that Francis would have worn her down eventually. She would marry him, and because of that, he would die. Mary could not let that happen. Francis would not die because of her.

Mary was glad to have Bash as a traveling companion. She had planned to escape on her own, but fate had other plans. She worried now that she had sacrificed the older brother's life to save the younger, for Mary knew if they were captured Bash would almost certainly be put to death. Bash's father, King Henry, loved him, but Henry loved power more and Mary's leaving had cost him England.

They entered the room and Bash immediately set to building a fire. Mary took him in as he worked to quickly stoke the fire.

"I'm sorry, Bash. I never meant to take you from your home."

Bash sighed as he prodded the fire, making the flames rise higher. "You don't have anything to apologize for, Your Grace. I was leaving anyway. I told you that."

"Please, Bash, just call me Mary. I feel more a coward than a queen right now."

Bash stood up and placed a hand on Mary's elbow, leading her closer to the fire. "You could never be a coward, Mary; it just isn't in you."

Mary smiled softly at Bash. He understood her need to leave. She had explained her reasons as they stopped to rest their horses that first day. Mary knew Bash took Nostradamus's prophecy seriously. He did not try to convince her to go back, or say she was being silly. He just held her as she cried that day. Whispering words of loyalty, support, friendship, and love. (Though he never said the word, Mary knew all the same).

Mary was brought back to the present by Bash's voice. "Take off that dress."

"What?!" Mary exclaimed, stepping back from Bash, surprised by his boldness.

"It needs to dry, and you need to warm up, Your Grace."

Mary noticed his switch to her formal title and realized he was trying to soothe her mind as to his intentions. Mary nodded, seeing the reason behind Bash's words.

"Yes, of course, you're right. Turn around then."

"All night?" Bash questioned, a bit of his natural cheek coming through this time.

Mary leveled him with a glare.

"Fine, fine." Bash turned and faced the door while Mary undid her dress. Bash caught movement out of the corner of his eye as he bent to remove his boots. Distracted as he was by the glimpse of pale flesh he spied as her dress slipped from her shoulders, he did not hear the boots in the hallway until it was too late.

Royal guards came crashing into the room, the door splintered by their sudden assault. Mary saw Bash reach toward his hip where his sword was usually strapped and saw the frustration in his eyes when he remembered he had removed it only moments before. Mary covered herself with her dress and shook her head at Bash as they locked eyes. Fighting would be pointless and they both knew it. The guards roughly forced Bash to his knees and tied his hands. They jerked him to his feet and began to push him towards the door.

"Stop!" Mary commanded in her most regal voice. "He is under my protection and will not be harmed."

"Our orders are to arrest him and escort you both back to the castle where King Henry will decide your fates."

Mary swallowed the lump in her throat. "We will come back willingly, but you will let me dress and you will not injure Sebastian. I am Queen and he is the son of a king."

The guard grunted. "Have it your way, Your Grace, but he's still headed for the dungeons."

Mary nodded and motioned for the guards to turn around as she slipped the wet dress back over her shoulders. She picked Bash's boots up off the floor and brought them to the guard holding him. "He will be needing these, I believe." The guard scowled and took the boots, releasing Bash and helping him put his boots on his feet. Other guards grabbed the rest of Bash and Mary's meager possessions as they were shuffled out of the room by their captors.

The ride to the castle was fast and silent save for the sound of the horses hooves thundering around them. Mary and Bash had been separated by the guard; Bash at the front of the party and Mary in the rear. Mary kept her eyes trained on Bash's back for the entire ride. Once, he turned slightly in the saddle and locked eyes with Mary. He tried to smile encouragingly, but one of the guards smacked his horse, making him turn towards the front. Mary bit back a harsh command, her desire to keep Bash alive outweighed her momentary concern. Mary began to form a plan as they galloped toward the castle. It would be risky and she knew it would destroy Francis, but if her plan worked she would save both brothers' lives in one calculated, bold move.